More Blessed To Receive
by cowlicklesschick
Summary: Sequel to Creed. In which Walter has a mile-wide romantic streak and Paige has absolutely no clue what to do with it.


_**This will probably most definitely never happen but really when has that ever stopped me**_

/

Paige is having a bad day.

Okay, maybe that's an exaggeration. Perhaps _confusing_ would be more accurate.

It didn't start that way, though. It was just another ordinary Tuesday – she didn't oversleep, had little trouble putting together an outfit, her hair actually cooperated, and Ralph was ready to leave on time. Her promise of staying at the garage a little later than usual tonight put him instantly in a good mood, and it easily rubbed off on her until she walked into work, headed straight for the coffee pot.

That was when it all started to go downhill.

"Good morning, Paige," Walter says cheerfully.

She smiles, surprised – Walter isn't a grouch in the mornings, but he usually comes across as just shy of pleasant, without meaning to. "…Good morning, Walter."

"Did you sleep well?" He swirls his coffee – likely his second or third cup – and looks at her over the brim. She gets distracted by how good a smile looks on him, even if all she can see at the moment are the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes.

"I…did, thanks. How about you?"

He shrugs. "Well enough."

She's fluent enough in Walter-isms by now to know he probably didn't get a wink. But he looks energized, shaved and in fresh clothes.

"What's put you in such a good mood?" She smiles when she pours her own cup of coffee and catches the whiff of cinnamon.

His smile fades. "You…you don't like them?"

Paige blinks. "What? Like what?"

He shakes his head, looking utterly crestfallen. "I…I just…nevermind. I apologize for the, uh. The discomfort caused by – "

Paige looks around, truly at a loss, and gasps, feels like an _idiot_ for not seeing them right away.

"Walter – "

The bouquet of sunflowers perched on the corner of her desk is enormous, but at the same time, not too showy. They're tucked into a blue glass vase with a silk bow and there's even a _card_ and –

She stares at the flowers for what feels like ten minutes, before her gaze swings back to Walter. He's staring at her, too, in an intense way that tells her he's just barely managing not to panic over her reaction.

"Do, um. D-do you like them? I did some research, and you've m-mentioned your preference for them…"

"Walter – "

"But you are of course not obligated to like them – "

"Walter."

"A-and there's a senior center down the street, if they make you too uncomfortable I can a-always run them over there, so –"

"Walter." She steps closer, puts one hand on his arm. He freezes, and his mouth snaps shut. She shakes her head slowly, all while ignoring the warm glow that's starting in her chest and spreading down to her fingertips. "Walter, I love them. They're beautiful."

Paige can feel the tension ooze out of him; he exhales and grins sheepishly. "Good. I, uh. Wanted you to like them."

She shakes her head in wonder. "How could I not like them? You chose sunflowers specifically because you knew I like them."

"Well, yes." He frowns in confusion. "That…it would have been illogical to choose any other flower, because it was already decided you wouldn't like them as much."

Paige smiles gently. "Walter, I would have been happy with whatever flowers you gave me. But the fact that you paid attention to what my favorite kind is…that's very sweet of you, and I appreciate it. Thank you."

He exhales, like the most stressful part of his day is now behind him, at eight o'clock in the morning. "Good."

For a moment, she just stands there, unsure if maybe she should ask _why_ but not wanting him to feel more self-conscious about the flowers than he apparently already does, when he takes another sip of coffee.

"Cabe called, said he's going to be busy at Homeland today with paperwork. So it should be a slow day for us."

Paige blinks, feeling like she has whiplash. "Uh. Okay. I'll…um, I'll get caught up on those expense reports, then."

"Sounds good." He smiles again, and without another word goes over to his desk, opens his laptop, and submerges himself in work.

Paige is still standing there, wondering what dimension she accidentally fell into this morning, when Toby arrives a few minutes later. As luck would have it, he notices the flowers immediately.

"Why, Miss Dineen, do you have a secret admirer?"

She's still a little numb; she sits down and gets out her favorite pen, takes a hearty gulp of coffee. "No."

"The denial is practically _dripping_ off you," he tells her.

She scowls. "Shut up, Toby."

"Wow." He leans back. "So, was this a person you didn't want to receive flowers from? Because I'm sure the senior center down the street would love to have them, their receptionist is always grumpy – "

"Toby," she snaps. She doesn't want to give the old people her flowers, okay? That doesn't make her a bad person. It just means she likes them.

Maybe too much?

"Who are they from, anyway? The card's right there."

Paige looks at it warily. She knows it's _right there_ ; what she doesn't know is if she wants to read it.

"I…haven't had a chance to look at the card yet."

"Which means you do know who they're from, but you don't want to contemplate what they mean."

She glares at him irritably. "Did you finish your case studies from last week? I need them by lunchtime."

He takes the hint, and saunters over to his desk with one last smirk. Paige inhales deeply, and glances across the room – Walter is still completely absorbed with whatever he's doing, not even seeming aware there are other people in the room. It almost makes her mad, but right then Happy arrives, effectively distracting Toby, so she grabs the card and sneaks into the kitchen.

She rips the envelope a little – because it's really flimsy paper, obviously, not because her hands are shaking or she's anxious or anything, okay – and then gawks at the short, almost formal message printed inside.

 _Helianthus annuus_

 _Representative of faith, loyalty, and adoration_

That's it.

She even checks the back, and inside the envelope in case she missed anything.

But no, that's really all there is – the taxonomical name, and the meaning.

"What," she can't help but say.

Sure, it was very sweet of Walter to give her flowers – for no reason, it's not anywhere near her birthday or anything. She supposes this is rather typical of him, though, to wrap a thoughtful gesture in facts to make himself seem less human.

After a moment or two, she finally just rolls her shoulders, and tucks the card back into the envelope.

So her boss gave her flowers. Big deal.

 _But he gave only_ you _flowers_ , that snide voice in her head points out.

She quickly dismisses the thought, because she can very easily imagine the natural disaster that would result from anybody giving Happy Quinn flowers.

This means nothing – a nice gift, with a typical Walter-gesture tucked into the side.

Nothing at all, she tells herself firmly as she walks back to her desk.

Still, the flowers make her smile pretty much all day.

/

By Friday, she is ready to pull her hair out.

It's not that Walter's doing anything wrong. Quite the opposite, actually. But she just doesn't understand – and yes, she works with people who could probably individually take over the world from the comfort of their living rooms, so there's a lot that happens at Scorpion that she doesn't understand.

But that stuff is usually science, and she's gotten pretty good at following whatever explanations are given, and nodding in agreement with the rest of it.

This, however, is purely, strictly EQ-related, and it's got her stumped.

It's starting to piss her off, to be honest.

In the three days since the sunflowers appeared on her desk, other gifts have appeared.

Wednesday, a box of gourmet chocolate-covered pretzels tied with a silk bow was waiting for her.

Walter's explanation?

"You like salty-sweet."

She nodded in agreement, of course, and mumbled her thanks. The treats were delicious, in fact she almost forgot to save Ralph any, but the puzzled frown didn't leave her face all day.

Thursday: a gift certificate to a high-end spa downtown that they upgraded the security for last month.

Walter had merely shrugged and said he'd gotten a discount as a thank-you from the owner, which appeased Paige until she started reading the fine print on the certificate. It included an extended sauna visit, mani-pedi, facial, and oil massage – all of her favorites. Excluded were the sea-weed wrap, mud bath, and the deep-tissue massage. Her least favorites.

It was too perfect to be a coincidence; but when she asked Walter about it again, he had said that he overheard her talking with the owner while they'd been at the facility for the job.

Okay, sure, fine. She had said thank-you (again, with no small amount of confusion), and arranged for Sylvester to hang out with Ralph on a Saturday a couple of weeks from now.

This morning, she walked in to find another flower arrangement, but she didn't recognize the blooms.

Walter is nowhere in sight – she's there early, for once – but there's a card. She drops her purse into her chair almost irritably and opens it.

 _Protea cynaroides_

 _protea-flower-meaning/_

By now, she's right on the edge of annoyed. She opens up her laptop and types in the web address…and then frowns at her computer screen in total befuddlement.

Commonly agreed upon meanings for the protea flower are:

Diversity (she feels safe in ruling that one out; their team is about as diverse as it gets)

Daring (jumping out of airplanes and using salt packets to diffuse bombs is daring enough, thank you anyway)

Transformation (maybe?)

Courage.

That last one gives her pause. It's…it's almost like Walter's trying to tell her something. She eyes the bouquet. There are four different colored blooms: white, yellow, orange, and red. She scrolls down to the colors section.

White: purity, honesty, integrity

Yellow: friendship, compassion, trust

Orange: cheerfulness, happiness, joy, unlimited possibilities

Red: love and passion

Slowly, the light bulb clicks on, and Paige feels her eyes get bigger and all of a sudden she realizes she's leaning so far over her desk top the screen is giving her hair static. She clears her throat, sits upright, and rereads the webpage again, just in case.

But no, she didn't misread anything. The words jump out at her all over again…love, passion, unlimited possibilities, courage…

Her eyes flit down to the corner of the screen. She's got at least fifteen minutes before anyone else usually arrives. She can hear faint sounds of movement coming from the loft.

Before she can talk herself out of it, she shoves her chair away from her desk and marches up the stairs, doesn't even pause to knock but lets herself in. Walter is standing by his bed, in his slacks and holding his shirt ( _good timing_ , she absently congratulates herself) and when she barges in he looks at her somewhat alarmed.

"Paige? I-is everything – "

He doesn't get any further, because Paige crosses the room in quick strides and kisses him.

Smart man that he is, Walter catches up pretty fast, so she doesn't let herself worry about overloading him, doesn't let the doubts over his feelings slink in the back door. Instead she wraps her arms around his shoulders – which feels better than she remembers, wow – and kisses him over and over again.

He's good at this – at making her forget everything else, at making her knees tremble and her head spin. She really hopes they don't have any nuclear threats today, because she's sorely tempted to ask if they can have the day off just to do _this,_ it doesn't have to be anything more –

When at last her body demands oxygen, she pulls away slowly, grudgingly. Walter keeps his hands where they are – one in her hair, the other on the small of her back, keeping her flush against him. She toys with the hair on the nape of his neck and rests her forehead against his chin.

"So, just to make sure I understand you correctly," she says in what's supposed to be a conversational tone but actually comes out as the closest to swooning she's ever been in her life, "The flowers, they mean – "

"That I'm n-not afraid anymore." He leans back slightly, so he can look at her. "I mean….I-I am. But I, uh, d-don't want that to be the r-reason we're n-not trying, anymore."

She blinks back tears. "Walter – "

"I love you." He says it the same way he rattles off math equations or chemistry formulas – like there is absolutely no disputing it, like it's an irrefutable fact, the kind that his world is founded upon. But the look in his eyes tells her that it means so much more to him than math and science ever will.

And honestly? That's the best part.

Paige will tell him she loves him, too, but right now it's too much for her to form words, so she just reaches up and kisses him again, and decides that sunflowers definitely just got kicked to second place on her favorites list.

 _ **/**_

 _ **This fic wouldn't have been possible without google so everyone say thanks next time you need to look up a pointless fact**_


End file.
